Got It Memorized?
by PaladinTersias
Summary: Axel and Roxas- Teacher and Student- Slowly fall for each other.
1. Unconscious

**Since so many of you have been asking for an update, I've decided to go back and edit this up a little bit in an attempt to get myself back into the flow for such an update. I hope you enjoy the edited story as much as you've enjoyed what I already had, and I hope to get you that update soon. Happy reading!**

***-insert copyright stuff like 'these characters aren't mine' etc.-***

One-Thirty was about the time of day when the students attending the small college in Twilight Town stopped being lifeless rag-dolls. Bravery and energy made themselves clear as notes slid across white marble floors and an almost middle-school enthusiasm bloomed. Of course, there were the few who didn't dare let their childish instincts get a hold of them.

A younger looking blond-haired boy sat in the first row of his English class, three seats from the door. He was nineteen, very smart for his age, and already a junior. His name was Roxas and he hunched over his work, scribbling down notes and doodling on the edges of the graphite-smeared paper.

When the bell finally rang, the class cleared out. In the back of his mind, Roxas knew he was alone and, more importantly, that he was free to go- but his pencil kept moving across the paper to finish an absurdly detailed dragon eating problem number thirteen. Only when his teacher cleared his throat (a little too loudly) did Roxas realize that it was time to pack up and head home. He carefully folded the doodle ridden paper and placed it in his messenger bag with his other belongings.

Before he could make his exit, his teacher called him to his desk. Immediately he figured he'd get shit about his constant doodling, and the straight face he received upon his arrival at the desk was not reassuring. "Yes, Professor Axel?" He asked uncertainly. He was met with silence as Axel continued grading the stack of papers in front of him. "Am I in trouble?"

There was a pause- a moment of thick tension as Roxas tried to come up with all of the things he could have done wrong besides doodling- and then Axel looked up with a kind smile. "Quite the contrary. I just wanted to let you know that you got the highest grade on the last exam and that you continue to show exceptional progress in my class. You're probably the best English student I've had in a long time. Keep it up."

Roxas wasn't at all sure what to say. He wasn't expecting that at all- especially not from Axel. He just sort of stood there for a minute, trying to process that he was the best in the class- that he had managed to impress one of the hardest teachers in the school. When he finally realized that Axel was staring at him with an almost worried look, his face flushed crimson and the weirdest noise- like a hiccup- came from his mouth.

"T-thank you!" He said, wringing his hands around the strap of his messenger bag. "That… really means a lot coming from you."

"Oh? And what's that supposed to mean?" Axel inquired, a red eyebrow cocked. Roxas' face burned a little hotter and he turned toward the door to make his escape. As he fled down the hallway, he could hear the most genuine laugh come from the classroom; from the hardest teacher on campus.

* * *

When school let out, it was customary for Roxas to head down to the park a few blocks from his house. He would stay there until it was dark and he was sure his mum was passed out on the couch. His favorite part about the park was the tire swing, which he would swing on until a group of little kids would hassle him to give them a turn. Reluctantly, he would oblige and leave them to his favorite thing while he found a quiet place to draw. Call it childish or immature, but sometimes he wanted to tell the kids to piss off so he could have the swing all to himself.

Today was like any other, though Roxas was disappointed to find that the tire swing was already taken by a usual group of children. He sighed to himself and found a bench in the shade, far away from everybody. He pulled out his sketchbook and started a drawing of a monster he had seen in a dream- a heartless, he called it. He had barely finished the guidelines when a football sailed right onto his lap, muddying his sketchbook and knocking the pencil out of his hand.

He was too shocked to find himself angry. He just kept looking at his ruined sketchbook and at his hand and wondering where the hell his pencil got away to.

"Hey lamer." A voice said somewhere in front of him. He couldn't quite make out anything past the unbidden tears that were forming. "Oh my god, Larxene, he's crying! Whassa matter, lamer? Did I mess up one of your shitty little doodles?" The sketchbook was pulled from his lap and the boy (who Roxas finally realized was Seifer, one of the losers in his class) flipped through every single drawing, sneering and laughing and making fake gagging noises.

"Put it down." Roxas growled. "Now."

Seifer put a hand to his chest, a look of mock fear in his eyes. "Or what? You gonna cry me to death? Get a clue, lamer, you can't do shit to me. Right Larxene?" He threw his head back in uproarious laugher as Larxene gave a matter-of-fact nod.

"I said. Put. It. Down." Without thinking, Roxas threw a punch, hitting Seifer straight in the jaw. He could tell by the feel of the punch that it was weak. He could tell by the smile on Seifer's face that not only was it definitely weak, but a huge mistake. "Shit."

"Shit is right, fuckface!" Seifer said. And right then, he tore Roxas' sketchbook in half and stomped on the pages and threw his fist right into younger blonde's stomach. Roxas staggered back, already crying because his sketchbook was completely messed up now and he could never get those drawing back and god, his stomach hurt. "You're such a little pussy. Fucking worthless teacher's pet. Can't draw for shit. You're literally nothing, so why are you even alive?"

This time Seifer's foot made contact with Roxas' jaw and he collapsed into the mulch, groaning at the white hot pain that spread through his face. Everything went completely silent and somewhere in the background of the silence was a girl whispering 'holy shit seifer' and a boy saying 'shut the fuck up larxene' and then there was a sharp pain in his side and the sound returned and Roxas was sobbing.

He lay there like that for a while, blood dripping from his nose and his lip into a small puddle in the mulch. He tried to keep his eyes open- he really did- but every time he caught a glimpse of the red-stained woodchips or the corner of a sheet of paper from his sketchbook, he just wanted to close his eyes forever and forget this ever happened.

After some time, he heard the voice of a child and the familiar voice of an adult, but he didn't have the energy to look up and see who it was. All he knew was that the voice got closer and exceedingly thicker with what was probably concern or worry. He was barely conscious when he felt his body being lifted from the mulch and carried across the park.

"Who did this?" The man kept asking. "Oh my god, Roxas, who did this?"

But the unconsciousness had already taken him.


	2. Twenty Three

**Ugh this took me forever to edit and I feel like I got a little too redundant at some parts. But we're well on our way to that update, so do try to enjoy! I tried to keep the basic gist of the chapter intact, but I did make some pretty big changes so make sure if you've been following this story since the start that you re-read! :D**

Axel tried to take Roxas home, but no one answered the door. He looked up his number and tried calling his parents, but to no avail. In the end, he left a note on the front door that said Roxas would be staying with a friend and that he should be home by the beginning of the week.

It was well into the night when Roxas groaned and rolled over, nearly falling off the couch. His eyes shot open and the pain he had forgotten about in his slumber came rushing back to his face and his ribs and his stomach. He could feel a gauze taped to his jaw where he'd been kicked and small band-aid above his lip. A red blanket was draped over him, and, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness he pulled it tighter to himself because he had no idea where he was. Panic began to set in.

"Y-You're up?" somebody asked from the darkness, causing Roxas to let out a painful, frightened scream. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry!" they said, and Roxas could hear shuffling and a click coming from the foot of the couch. Suddenly, the room was filled with soft light and the face of voice was illuminated. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"Professhur?" Roxas said, finding it hard to speak with his swollen jaw. "Where am I? What… happened?"

"Well, um…" Axel started, scratching his head nervously, "You're at my place, but I was hoping maybe you could tell _me_ what happened? All I know is that some kid saw what happened and he found me and, well, here we are." He paused a moment, and then added, "I tried to take you home, first, but I couldn't get a hold of anyone. Nobody answered the door or phone…"

"Figuresh" Roxas grumbled, trying to sit up. Axel quickly stopped the action with a strong hand.

"No, don't get up. Just relax. You're going to be sore for a while, and I'd rather you not prolong that. Are you hungry? You can explain over a meal, if you'd like." He chuckled to himself, "I know it's a bit late but I figure you've not eaten since lunch." He headed toward the kitchen without waiting for an answer. Roxas couldn't help but stare after him. He was no longer in his uniform, but rather a form-fitting tank and baggy pajama bottoms. He looked so much younger than he did at school.

"Do you like soup? I've got some tomato… and chicken noodle. Heh." He poked his head into the living room, holding two cans of soup. "If you're not big on soup, I can make something else, but I don't want to make anything that might hurt your jaw any more than it already is."

"Tomato ish good." Roxas said, smiling as best he could.

"Grilled cheese with it? Can't have one without the other."

Roxas nodded and Axel went off to cook for him. It only took a second of thinking about it to bring tears to his eyes. Because his teacher was treating him better than his family ever had. His teacher had found him beaten up at the park and was kind enough to lend him his home and hospitality because his parents couldn't even offer that much. His teacher bandaged him up and was making him food and it was completely and utterly overwhelming. He tried to stifle his sobs but one slipped past his lips and quicker than a moth to flame, Axel was there.

"Woah, woah, what's the matter, Roxas?" He was asking, but Roxas pulled the blanket over his head and tried to be as small as possible because he realized that it was all very embarrassing that his teacher should treat him so kindly and see him sobbing and beaten up and such a mess. He would hear no end of it if anyone at school knew what happened. "Hang on, the food is almost ready. You just hang in there, okay?"

Roxas could hear the clang of pots and pans and dishes in the kitchen and he tried his best to stop crying because it was ridiculous and stupid and dumb to cry in front of his teacher. He was wiping his eyes with his sleeves when Axel reappeared with the food

They ate in silence, but in his head, Roxas was trying to figure out what to tell Axel. Because telling him that it was Seifer and Larxene was the farthest thing from his mind. If they knew he squealed- if they got any sort of punishment for kicking his ass- he'd be dead. It made his heart race just thinking about it. There was no way he'd ever tell anybody. Ever.

"So?" Axel inquired when he finished his soup, "Tell me what happened."

He said it so kindly. Roxas wasn't used to that.

" Well, I don't really 'member mush." He lied, "I wash drawing and I got hit in the faysh with a football and I shorta passhed out"

Axel looked at him hard for a few minutes, emerald eyes inspecting every inch of his face. Then, he laughed. "You are a horrible liar. I'm old enough to know a lie when I see it. But you're not going to tell me what really happened, are you? It was someone from school, wasn't it?" He said, crossing his arms over his chest. Roxas inhaled sharply. Damn he was good.

"I'd rather not shay anything right now." He replied. Axel stood to take the dishes to the kitchen, and Roxas quickly handed his over. As he watched the redhead disappear into the kitchen once more, he found himself wondering just how old he happened to be. Without thinking, he blurted out, "How old are you anywaysh?"

"I guess I can't blame you. I'll give you a little time to think it over, but I'd really like to know who did this to you. They almost broke your jaw and you're pretty bruised up everywhere else. That's not something to be taken lightly."

Reflexively, Roxas brought his hand up to the bandage on his jaw. His whole face hurt, a lot. His whole everything hurt a lot. His mind brushed over all the things that could happen to Seifer and Larxene if they got caught, but he shook the thought away.

"I suppose I should head to bed, and you should do the same." Axel said as he came back into the living room. He leaned down so his face was level with Roxas'. "I brought you an icepack. I recommend icing your jaw for a while before you sleep. Hopefully by morning the swelling will have gone down enough for you to stop slurring." He brought the pack up to Roxas' face and set it gently against the bandage. "We'll try to call your parents again in the morning, but if all else fails, I've at least secured the weekend for you. I don't want you to be home alone like this." He smiled, and pulled his hand away from the bandage. "Sleep well… or at least try."

With that, Axel started down the hall. He stopped halfway, though, and turned back toward Roxas.

"Ah, and I do believe you asked my age? Twenty-three."

A door creaked shut a few moments later.

The only thoughts in Roxas' head as he lay curled up on the couch, a red blanket draped over him, were:

_Why does he care so much? Why is he so willing to help? Why is he so kind and gentle and thoughtful?_

And

_He's only four years older than me._


	3. Confessions

Morning came quickly. Roxas found himself wide awake as rays of sunlight peeked into the house. The icepack had long since become a pack of lukewarm water and lay forgotten on the coffee table. His jaw still throbbed, but the swelling had gone down considerably and he found, after whispering to himself, that his words were a lot less slurred. He pulled himself up and took a good look around the room.

It wasn't small, but by no means was it large. The living room was a comfortable size, furnished with the couch he had made his bed and an armchair, both upholstered in red; a mahogany coffee table and an entertainment stand to match, three bookshelves with varying amounts of books, and a tall cabinet near the doorway to the kitchen that was filled with trinkets and knick-knacks that appeared foreign. The TV situated on the entertainment stand was large and flat-screened, but didn't look to be used often. There were no photos on the off-white walls; no hints toward family or friends or anything.

He could have stared at the room all day, could have inspected the trinkets and books, but Roxas realized with sudden urgency that he had to use the restroom. He stumbled off the couch, groaning at the soreness in his chest, and made his way down the hall. He had no idea which door might lead him to a place to relieve his bladder, but Axel didn't seem to be awake yet, so he couldn't ask. He'd just have to check all of the doors.

He turned the knob of the first door he came across, but it turned out to be a study of sorts. A laptop sat open on a desk covered in papers. Soft light from a desk lamp was the only illumination in the room, as the curtains were closed over a small window. More bookshelves lined the walls. Roxas pulled the door closed as silently as he could muster and headed to the next room. He wondered why Axel had left the bathroom door shut, anyway.

He drew in a breath before turning the knob and when he pulled the door open, it came out sharply because there was Professor Axel, sprawled ungracefully across his bed; shirtless and only half covered by his blanket. His face was turned toward Roxas, eyes closed and lips parted slightly as he slept. It wasn't his intention, but he couldn't help but stare and think and bite his lip. When he caught himself, he gasped and closed the door and stood in the hallway for a few moments, stunned.

Because he was just staring at a shirtless Axel. Because he was biting his lip over his teacher. Because his thoughts were racing through his head, few of which were innocent. He stumbled to the next door and was relieved to find it was the restroom. After doing his business, he looked at himself in the mirror and frowned. Dark purple bruising peeked out of the corners of the bandage on his jaw. He took the band-aid off of his lip to find a small scratch that ran from just below his left nostril to his lip. His hair was completely out of sorts and, in general, he looked like shit. Sighing, Roxas turned on the tap and splashed his face with cold water. He didn't look at the mirror again before exiting.

On his way back to the living room, he nearly ran into Axel. "Oh! Professor…"

"Morning." He grumbled, obviously still in the process of waking up, "Sleep well?"

"Yeah." Roxas lied. He hadn't slept at all.

"How about some coffee after I do my business?" He nodded his head toward the restroom. Roxas gave a quick nod. Coffee sounded alright. He made his way back to the living room and sat on the couch until Axel finished.

"Do you like your coffee black or with cream?" The redhead asked, disappearing into the kitchen. This time, Roxas followed. "I've got some Almond Joy creamer if that suits your fancy."

"Sure. That doesn't sound bad at all."

They both sat at the table as their coffee brewed. It was Roxas' fidgeting that pulled Axel's attention to him. "What's up?"

It wasn't necessarily his intention to say anything that morning, but as Axel had slept, his mind had worked tirelessly around ideas and thoughts that were probably better said than kept inside. When he crept to the bathroom earlier, they were locked away at the back of his mind. It had only taken a seat at the kitchen table with the scent of brewing coffee assaulting his nose to bring everything to the front.

"Do you want to know why my mum isn't home?"

Axel's expression was immediately changed to one of utmost interest. "Of course."

"Because…"

For a second, Roxas considered what he was about to say. What he was about to ask. It seemed almost crazy when he remembered his embarrassment earlier. Then again, nothing was crazier than the entire situation he had been thrown into. He tasted the words that sat in his mouth.

They were bitter.

"My dad left when I was ten. He didn't say goodbye. For the longest time, my mum was certain he would come back and she fed me lies about business and extended vacations. I believed her until she finally lost her fucking mind." He lifted his blue eyes to inspect Axel's face. Unchanged. Interested. "I think I must have been thirteen when she started to blame me for the whole thing. She wasn't afraid to grab my shirt and shake me a little while she spat accusations. Of course, after some time, I started to believe her. I tried to stay out of her sights because when she would yell at me, I'd be sicker with myself than anyone."

He paused, more to grasp his bearings than anything. Axel muttered a breathy, "shit…". Roxas continued.

"When I was fifteen, I wizened up a little. I hadn't done anything to push my father away. I hadn't done anything to deserve the shit I received. One night, I yelled at my mum. Told her what I thought. Said that maybe it was her who pushed him to leave. I didn't realize what kind of poison those words could be to a person, which holds a thread of irony because those were exactly the words that I had been suffering through for years. She took up drinking shortly thereafter."

There was a long break from his story as Axel stood to prepare their drinks. Roxas watched as he poured creamer and then coffee into each cup. The house was dead silent. His heart felt like it would explode out of his chest. His mouth was incredibly dry. When the redhead sat, pushing a mug across to Roxas, he continued.

"She would leave early and come home late. When money got tight and she couldn't leave the house, she would just look at me with the most sickened expression, like I did that to her. And maybe I did. But I tried not to think about it. I had to make something of myself if I wanted to get out, and that's what I wanted most of all. I remember having to cook and clean and fend for myself because she wouldn't. I was essentially disowned, but stuck with the person who hated me the most.

"She hit me once. It happened after an especially late night. I was seventeen, Freshman year of college. I was just so sick of what she was doing to herself- what she was doing to me. So I told her. And she just got so angry with me. I could feel the hatred in her eyes. It rolled out of her like some tangible beast. She came at me faster than I could react and slapped me right across the face. And she told me that I wasn't worth the air I breathe. Said she hated me.

"So that was that. She started leaving for days at a time. Sometimes she would leave sticky notes telling me what needed to be done around the house and sometimes those notes would have a possible return date on them. But mostly she left me to myself.

"And you want to know the craziest part? The stupidest motherfucking part of this whole thing is that I have a shred of hope that maybe someday she'll wake up and see that it was neither of us. There's a part of me that loves her because she's my mum. I feel like I shouldn't have that part. I feel like I should give up but I can't."

He didn't realize it immediately, but he was crying. Tears fell in hot streaks down his face.

"I…" Axel whispered, "I don't even know what to say, Roxas."

The blond took a long drink of coffee. "Then don't say anything."

"I'm sorry…"

"For what? You didn't do any of it."

"I don't have to have done anything to be sorry, Roxas. I know it's a little late, but if there's anything I can do to help…"

There it was. Roxas' golden opportunity. He tossed the idea around a little bit before voicing it, trying to consider the actual possibility of a positive answer.

"Do you think, maybe, that I could…" He let out a breathy laugh, "stay here for a while?"

Silence. He didn't even look up at Axel. Instead, he wiped the tears from his face.

"Roxas…" Axel's eyes were bright with excitement, but Roxas didn't notice. "How could I possibly say no?"

"Are…" Roxas paused, "Are you sure?"

"Of course. But you know, if you stay here, it would be best to keep it on the down low. I'm not sure the other students- or the board- would take you living with me so well."

Roxas laughed. "Of course."

Axel said, "We should go get your things, then."

"Yeah."

And so they did.


	4. Thank You

They pulled up to a squat house painted periwinkle blue. The yard was overgrown with weeds poking out in large patches. A little fence surrounded the yard, maybe three feet tall. Presumably, it used to be white, but in its current state the color was sandy brown with darker splotches of dirt. Roxas stared at his house with a mix of anxiety and disgust. His heart was doing backflips.

"Are you okay?" Axel inquired, tilting his head just slightly toward the blond. "I can go with you if you want."

Roxas considered this, but ultimately decided against it. He would deal with his own problems. He just hoped that it wouldn't kill him.

He stepped up onto the porch, and no sooner than doing so did his mom step out for a cigarette. He regarded her with a nod before slipping into the house. "Roxas!" He heard, "Who is this man parked in front of our house? Are you going somewhere?" He ignored her in favor of grabbing his stuff and getting the fuck out of there.

Roxas' room was unimpressive, if one was being nice, and a shithole, if someone was being honest. It was barely large enough to fit his bed, desk, and dresser, and the walls seemed to be imploding. The color was some offshoot of oatmeal that looked more like baby-shit brown. Roxas had tried to remedy some of this hideousness of his room by tacking up posters, but he wasn't really fooling anyone.

The desk that hugged the wall next to his bed was one he found himself, sitting on the corner of some street a few blocks down. It was in all sorts of disrepair, but it still stood and its surface was smooth enough to write on, so he had Hayner help him take it to his house. When Roxas compared it to the clean, modern style of Axel's home, his gut twisted. What he had was a lot worse than he had let himself believe.

He rummaged through his dresser first, stuffing clothes into an old backpack he found stuffed in the back of one of the drawers. His methods were far from strategic- he didn't think about what he would need for school or special occasions or, when it came to it, work. He just stuffed clothes into his backpack and was done with it. He turned to his desk and grabbed his laptop- the only thing he had ever broken down and spent more than ten dollars on. In fact, it spent quite a bit more and had, since that point, refused to spend a similar sum on anything.

He looked at his bed. It was a tiny thing- his twin-sized mattress was more along the lines of vertically-challenged-single-child-sized. The sheets were orangish and his comforter was greenish and his pillowcase was an awful drool-stained yellow-gray. He ignored them, though, and instead picked the mattress up to reveal a small collection of sketchbooks and binders stuffed with doodles and writing and serious drawings. He threw them all into his messenger bag and replaced the mattress. One last cursory glance around the room told him he was done, and so he made a motion to leave.

"Roxas?" His mother's voice stopped him in his tracks. She stood in his doorway, all tangled blond locks and drunk blue eyes. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" He didn't have to smell the alcohol on her breath or see her eyes or hear her voice to know she was inebriated.

"Just to a friend's house, mum." He replied, as cautiously as he could manage. It wasn't his intention to rile her up. He just wanted to get out.

She looked at his bags- there were three of them in total, two of which Roxas had managed to find buried under things in his room- and made a sound in her throat. It said, 'I'm not buying it' but it took her a long time to put her disbelief into actual words. It was assumed that she was far too drunk to have any idea what she was talking about. It didn't stop her from being angry, though.

"Roxas," She started, but this time it sounded more like "rocksish", "I'm getting real tired of you thinking that you can just roam about the streets without asking me about it first. You're such a disrespectful little shit, you know that?"

Roxas didn't respond right away, because he could feel anger prickling in his stomach. Anger and fear. They swelled and receded, swelled and receded, until he could manage an impeccably controlled response, "I know, mum. I'm just going to be gone for a bit. I promise I'll be back by the middle of the week."

She paused to consider this.

But like every other time he tried to reason with her, in her drunken state, she wasn't going to let him get away with it. She grabbed his arm, twisting and digging her nails into soft skin. He winced, but suppressed the scream that threatened to rip out of his lungs. She got really close to his face- so close he could smell the mint vodka she had been drinking before he got there- and growled, "You're a liar. Just like your father. A lying bastard, you are."

Now, Roxas was furious. He was nothing like his father. And whether or not his mother was drunk, she stepped over the line. He spat, "I'd rather be a liar than a dead-beat whore. I'd rather be a liar than let my kid face the world alone. I'd rather be a liar than anything you are."

Fingernails dug deeper into his flesh. She twisted his arm again. She slapped him right in the face, making sure her nails got a word in, too. "I'm so sick of you, Roxas!"

"Good." He said, trying to keep the tears that were welling in his eyes from falling. "Because I'm outta here. Good luck, bitch." He tore from her grip, grabbed his stuff, and stormed out of the house. It took one look at Axel to fall apart, but when he got into the car, the redhead didn't say anything. Instead, he placed a hand on Roxas' shoulder and it stayed there until they pulled up to Axel's house.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked.

To which Roxas responded, "I'd rather die than talk about that bitch ever again."  
-

It was as Roxas settled into the guest room of 358 Heart Circle that Axel realized the weight of things. Not only was he allowing a student to stay in his home, but he was allowing a student who he may have had more than a little liking towards stay in his home. Piled on top of that was the fact that the student was going through some pretty rough times with family and was forced to juggle school and friendships and, now, living with his teacher. Axel had, in his day, juggled his own problems, so he had an inkling about the stress levels Roxas was enduring. But he wasn't sure he could be any more helpful than giving the boy a room to stay.

He pushed a mug across the kitchen table for a while, watching the ripples of coffee hit the edges of the warm ceramic. He wasn't at all sure if he should go help Roxas settle, or leave him to his business, or what to do at all. Pushing the mug around had been, for some time now, the only thing he had resolved to do. It wasn't until he heart a little crash that Axel got up to check on Roxas.

He leaned against the door frame, coffee in hand, glasses at the edge of his nose. "How you doing, kiddo?" He asked, though he could tell by the mess of things on the floor that there may have been a bit of a complication. "Need some help?"

Roxas politely declined, scraping up the sketchbooks and notebooks that littered the floor. "Just dropped these by accident. I should be okay."

Axel considered asking to look at one of the sketchbooks, but decided instead to let Roxas finish up.

"Just yell if you need me, then."

Roxas smiled, and just before Axel made it down the hall, he yelled, "Axel?"

The redhead came rushing back in mock panic.

"What is it?" Mock breathlessness.

"Thank you."


	5. Inspiration

Midweek came and passed, and Roxas didn't go home. He didn't so much as walk down the same street as his house. Instead, he headed to Axel's straight after school. The guest room was a haven- a place for him to relax and think and draw without worry- and he liked that. A lot.

A week into the transition, Axel produced a list of things that Roxas would need to do to stick around: wash his own dishes and laundry, keep his room tidy, don't piss on the toilet seat, among other things. It was an easy enough chore chart, considering those were things that he did at home anyway, so he agreed, without hesitation, to help where it was needed. Roxas was happy and Axel was happier and for the longest time, things were okay.

It was a brisk evening, a few hours after school, when Roxas came out of his room to find Axel half asleep on the couch. He thought about waiting for a better time, when the redhead wasn't nearly so exhausted looking. But, feeling a little spontaneous, he leaned over the back of the couch and nearly touched noses with Axel. "Hey, sleepy head." He growled, "Can I show you something or are you going to sleep all day like the old man you are?"

Axel opened his eyes, startled. Roxas laughed.

"Excuse me, kiddo, but I am not old." Axel retorted, "Just because you're still a baby doesn't mean…"

"Oh come on, Axel, is that the best you can come up with? Lame."

They both laughed for a little while before the blond got back to business and the redhead adjusted himself so two could, once again, fit on the couch. "Anyway, I wanted to show you something. My sketchbook, actually. I haven't really shown anyone my drawings except for Hayner, but he doesn't care a whole lot about art."

"Ah! Well let's see it, then."

Axel's heart fluttered in his chest. It wasn't like Roxas was trusting him with his life by showing him the things, but he was, in a way, showing a little piece of his soul. And as corny as that sounded, it was both Roxas' intention to do so, and Axel's desire to be shown. The former handed off a small stack of three filled sketchbooks, which the latter took his good old time looking at. Between drawings, he would pause to comment on things he liked, and more importantly to Roxas, things he thought might need a little bit of change or improvement. It wasn't asked of him- Axel just felt it was the right thing to do.

When he finished, he set the sketchbooks on the coffee table and turned just a touch more toward Roxas. "You're an amazing artist, you know? You probably get that a whole lot, and it probably feels like people are just saying it to say it, but Roxas you really are talented. Do you make all of your characters up yourself?" Roxas nodded. "Shit, kid, you're going to make it really damn far with those hands and that mind of yours."

"Thank you. I really appreciate it. Everything you said… Thank you, god, thank you for everything."

Roxas began to cry.

"Shhh." Axel said, leaning forward to embrace the blond. "Hey, don't make that face, Roxas. You look better with a smile." Roxas tried to force a smile through his tears but found it quite impossible. "Ah, well if you need to cry, then cry. I'll leave you to it." He ran a finger across Roxas' cheek to catch a tear before it could fall completely. When he realized how personal the gesture was, he flushed bright red and tried to stand.

Roxas, however, didn't seem to mind. When Axel tried to escape, he wrapped his arms around the other's waist and pulled him back down onto the couch. It took several minutes of awkward shuffling for them to find a position of minimal comfort- Axel was smashed against the back of the couch by Roxas, who didn't seem to mind being in such close proximity to his teacher. In fact, he looked content, arms curled up under his chin, eyes closed but still puffy and wet from tears.

"Axel?" Roxas whispered.

"Yeah?" Axel responded. He wondered if Roxas could feel the beginnings of an erection against his legs.

There was a pause, and then Roxas said, "Ah, nevermind. I forgot what I was going to say."

But what he really meant to say was,

"You're my inspiration for all of this."


	6. A little update

I AM CURRENTLY EDITING THIS STORY IN PREPARATION FOR A LONG AWAITED UPDATE.  
My suggestion is to keep checking back/rereading the chapters, because there will be a lot of important changes.

The reason for the changes are as follows: when I was writing this at first, I based it off of a very similiar Akuroku fanfiction and that wasn't very fair of me. So I'm changing it up and adding my own twists. Also, I find it incredibly hard to continue something I stopped writing three years ago, so to prepare myself for an update, I feel like I need to change things and refresh my memory on the whole thing.

I hope you'll enjoy the changes, and I hope to get you that update soon. Thanks for continuing to support this story! :D


End file.
